The Circle Turns
by Unformal Sorrelle
Summary: An AU which features different childhoods for each of the Circle. "If she hadn't joined the gang then she would have died. But now, in the cell, with two Xs on her hand, she found that she had only put off the inevitable."
1. Begaining Differently

The Circle Turned  
_This is a short AU were each one of the Circle had a slightly different childhood._

_I don't own anything but my own ideas._

* * *

The redheaded girl grimaced at her companions, as usual. She was caught, again, due to the latest harebrained scheme and quite unamused. She wished that she had never had to fall in with the thieving fools but it had been her only chance of survival. Her raggedy, filthy dress was proof of that- Both in its squalor and how it hung off of her thin frame. Without turning to the Thief Lord she would have gone completely hungry and starved years ago. It was the only thing that a foreign born seven year old could have done when her family abandoned her after a particularly poor trading venture. If she hadn't joined the gang than she would have died. But now, in the cell with two Xs on her hand, she found that it had only put off the inevitable.

Logically, she knew she wouldn't be executed- only sent off to work. The magistrate didn't know of the evil spirit inside her, or the crimes it had been persuaded to commit. The spirit was the reason the Thief Lord had taken her after all, the reason her parents had left her. The Thief Lord had seen her tantrum after she was unable to convince another merchant family to take her home. The wind had picked up and lightning had come from her hair. He had immediately snatched her up, offered her food and a place to stay. A real family to care for her. The redhead hadn't wanted to go with the strange threatening man but she had been hungry and confused. The Thief Lord had asked her about magic and she told him she didn't have any, but her family had thought she was possessed. He had smiled and said that was alright. The spirit dedicated to ruining her life was actually useful to him.

She lost her name, somewhere along the way. She couldn't remember when she had actually agreed to go by Ghost- a mockery of her spirit- but sometime over the years she had stopped resisting the Thief Lord's renaming. She didn't want her family's name anyway. They had abandoned her and she had exorcized them from her mind as well as she could.

"Why can't ye jus' ge' us out o' here, Lady Ghost?" Alleycat mocked, "Or can ye only make wind?" The other gang-members chuckled darkly.

Her fellow gang members had never liked her, jealous of the special attention that the Thief Lord and Ghost's demeanor had never helped either. She had never been good with people, especially of her own age, and tended to be the grumpy loner. They teased her about her high-than-thou attitude, that she was too prissy and proper. They loved to remind her that her rich family had left her here, that she now lived in the slums. They would taunt her just short of her spirit being released, having learned after Cheater's death that her temper did have a bite. It was their way of poking a dangerous animal with a stick.

Ghost let a thunderclap sound just to scare them. She had minimal control over her spirit nowadays. She had been forced to learn how to command lightening by the Thief Lord and then had forced herself to learn how to stop it after Cheater's demise. She knew lethal from non-lethal, how to scare and how to blow a scarf away from a stall. Harnessing the spirit was always something she'd rather not do but she hadn't had that choice in years. It still got away from her though, when she was emotional. It scared her.

She laid back on the moss, her merchant upbringing desperately wishing for crisp sheets and a pillow. Ghost considered that this moss was probably the most comfortable bed she would sleep on for the rest of her future. That was rather a depressing thought.

Briefly, she wondered what it would be- the mines, galleys or shipyards. On one hand, she hoped to be near the ocean. She had always loved the water. On the other hand, she knew that the mines would be safest. Sure, she would die sooner, but no one else was guaranteed too. She wouldn't accidently sink a ship if the spirit escaped. She couldn't start a hurricane if she was underground. A typhoon wouldn't pop up because someone mad her cry. Maybe if she went to the mines the spirit would leave her in favor of seeing the open sky.

On that note, she felt like crying. As much as she hated hurting people, she didn't want to be trapped underground without any fresh air. And she would still have the deadly lightening.

As she had for the last three years, she saw no happy futures. She was cursed after all. Cursed with a spirit who ruined her life. A spirit she knew was driving her mad. At least it brought no voices to her at this moment.

With that semi happy thought, Ghost willed herself to sleep.

...

Briar could usually stand the dark. He remembered it well from his childhood. He had grown up on the streets and could barely remember his birth mother. But now the dark was a monster.

He remembered his kind foster-family's faces. His mother and father dead in their bed, their faces splotched with smallpox. He remembered them taking him in, their smile at him when his birthday rolled around, their pride when he gave exactly the right compliment to the king's garden. The fa Toren's had taken him in around the age of six when he had been caught stealing from them. They had never been the most normal of nobles and apparently he had reminded them of their daughter Sandrilene whom they had sent off with her nursemaid after a kidnapping attempt. They had decided that as a commoner he would be safe from politics and that leaving a little boy to fend for himself on the streets was far more dangerous than adopting him.

Now he was locked in a room, magically even, surrounded by a mob and a deadly disease. Before the lamp had gone out he had tried to lock-pick the door- a skill that he was admitably rusty at but was capable at. The door unlocked but it still wouldn't open, the magic still holding it shut. He had growled and tried ramming it but that had only hurt his shoulder.

Now the lamp was out and the only light was a carefully fed bonfire on a silver plate. He could do nothing but try to feed it and yet still keep it under control. If he caught the floor on fire than he was dead. When he ran out of bits to feed it, it was over. He didn't want the nightmare that he knew would come. He treated the fire like it was his hope, as sappy as that sounded. He knew that he would probably die in this room but kept a bet with himself that someone would come before the fire went out.

He hated fire. It made himself feel like he was burning. Every time he put another scrap in the fire, he could feel the flames nipping at his fingers. It wanted to eat him up, to destroy him.

Briar forced himself on. If little Roach could survive on the streets of Sotat, Briar fa Toren could keep a fire going. He had picked his name to be tough and he refused to take the easy way out. It was getting harder after days with no sleep and exhaustion was creeping up on him. The flickering shadows were almost hypnotizing, beckoning him to the dream world.

He kept feeding the flames.

This time though, he'd made a mistake. His nearly perfect coordination slipped up as he put in a wooden spool of thread. His hand reached to far and got burnt, making him jerk it back in pain. One of his fingers caught the plate and sent it skidding across the room, tipping over as it did so. The fire spilled onto the polished wooden floor, catching it alight.

Briar tried not to panic. Couldn't you beat fire out? But he'd already burned the linens. He couldn't trap it, not when the floor was so flammable. Why was the wood so dry? If only it was green wood, then it wouldn't catch like that.

At that thought, he felt a tingle. Greenwood. What if he could- No. He wasn't a mage. But... He really wished the floor was fresh from the tree, nice and wet and hard to burn. He could smell it, the smell of freshly cut trees. He could feel it.

Briar closed his eyes and felt a power flow through him. It was like he was telling the floorboards to remember being a tree. Waking them up from a long slumber.

When he opened his eyes, he saw nothing but blackness. The fire was gone and the floor wasn't dry and dusty anymore but it felt wet, as if covered in sap.

With the next wave of exhaustion, Briar closed his eyes again and was asleep. Later, he would never admit he swooned but it was in fact, a faint.

...

In the darkness of the temple dormitory, Daja was trying to get to sleep. She wondered what her family was doing, as always, and if they'd ever regretted their decision. She knew she regretted it.

Daja had been born a Trader. The skill she had from that was her calm negotiating skills. Other than that, she had been a failure. She had always been more interested in how things were made, especially metalwork, than she had about trade. She had lingered to much around forges as a child, always getting into trouble for appreciating the blacksmith's skill too much.

So, on account of a _mimander_'s prophecy- that she would eventually become a _trangshi _if left to continue her current path- they had left her in Capchen with an Uraelle Chandler to 'help around the house' and to be her 'ward'. Uraelle treated her like a servant, or a slave actually since Daja wasn't even paid, until the old woman died. Then Daja was passed around the Chandler clan, mostly for her bargaining skills, but eventually they had grown tired of her. Finally, Darra and Valden dropped her off at Stone Circle and clan Chandler officially cleansed their hands of her.

Now she was stuck in another place with people that didn't want her. She was as pleasant as she could be, always calm and deliberate but she was still under suspicion by the youth of the temple for being born a Trader. The dedicates were also growing tired of her frequently slipping off to the forges and getting into fights.

Daja heard a laugh and tried to ignore it. She knew the girls in her dormitory were talking about her. She tried not to let it bother her. They were only silly little girls.

"Have you seen her _clothes_? Those ugly dresses! That black wool's so old it's turning brown!" the girl who slept two beds to the left practically shrieked,

Daja gritted her teeth. She didn't notice that the metal around the room started vibrating. It wasn't even that she cared about her horrid clothes, but these girls who she hadn't done anything too, felt like they had to mock her. Bullies made her mad.

Luckily, they seemed to tone it down a bit. She had almost gotten herself to sleep when she heard one of them say, quite loudly even-

"-even her Traders wouldn't take her. They didn't think she has value!"

That was it. She wanted to go on and punch them in the face. Daja found it hard to care about her 'starting no fights, only defending rule' after that. She was going to get up and-

The other girls started screaming and that brought two dedicates running. When they got there, they found every scrap of metal melted around the room- except for around Daja's bed.

...

Sandry was covered in salt, both from the sea and her tears. She was so thirsty that she thought she might as well drink the ocean water- regardless of its effects. She was finally going to come home to her parents after five years of living with Pirisi and Traders. Her parents had written her that they were sure that she would be safe now and had sent for her. She and Pirisi had bargained for passage with the next ship heading to Summersea, Third Ship Kisubo. Then it had sank and Sandry was the only survivor as far as she could tell. Anyone else was merely a drowned body.

She wouldn't be a survivor for much longer. She was parched and starving. Her fair skin had baked, the blisters stung extra from the salt. Her lips were even cracked and bleeding, also stinging from the salt.

The biggest irony was that she had lived apart from her family for so long for her protection, only to die getting back. She knew she would die. She was in the middle of nowhere with no one to come to her rescue. If only she had died quickly like everyone else instead of this torture on the wooden plank!

Then she saw a chance- a _suraku_. A survival box. It was bobbing in the water, heading away from her.

She knew she couldn't swim there, she was too tired to survive the ocean. She looked around for a stick, something she could pull it towards her with. There was nothing.

She wished she was a _mimander_ and could tie up the winds in a thread. Then, not only could she get to the _suraku_, she could potentially blow herself to land.

She was so hungry she could just picture the box, all of the supplies wrapped in cloth. She wished it would just move a little. She called it over, trying to channel all of her optimism. It would come! She could see the cloths so clearly and begged them to come to her.

Slowly it obeyed her command.

* * *

**A\N**: Well, that was interesting. Don't ask what brought this on because it'd be kind of hard to explain. For some reason, I got inspired to write Tris if she had grown up like Briar- and then I had to do everyone else. I have no idea if I'll continue this- heck, I don't even know if anyone wants this continued!- but I could see something else in this AU. Their reactions to Niko, them meeting each other... Could get interesting, especially since their all connected in some way before they even know of each others existence. Briar and Sandry would be interesting, their actually siblings before the whole Circle thing! This Tris is also thought provoking, she'd quite a bit different than cannon!Tris is at the moment. I don't know. Did this work? Did you like it? Hate it? Think it wouldn't work at all? Or want to see where I'm going with it? Reviewing would be much appreciated because I'm a horrible judge of my own work!

Thanks for reading!


	2. Ghost's Trial

The Circle Turned  
_This is a short AU were each one of the Circle had a slightly different childhood._

Ghost's Trial

_I don't own anything but my own ideas._

* * *

When the guards came to drag her and the others to the magistrate, Ghost didn't bother resisting. She held her head high and looked everyone in the eyes. She would keep her dignity.

In truth, the redhead looked terrifying. A dirty, young, malnourished ten year old girl had never looked so imposing. Her unmanageable curls seemed to crackle and pop, whipping about her as if blowing in a harsh wind. Her eyes were like the ice of an avalanche. The whole aura about her screamed power, which contrasted sharply with the reality of her being a young girl about to get sent off to what could be her death.

Even as quickly as the guards pushed their captives- cracking whips for some of the less complient prisoners, Ghost managed to keep up her dignified stride. However, by the time she reached the large room of her trial she was puffing and out of breath. She tried to hide it and control herself, facing the room with a stoic expression. As scared as she was, her pride was still too great to let her show weakness.

The huge chamber was filled with people, from the gray robed magistrate, to clerks, to civilians. Ghost listened to ever word as people testified against her gang. Not a word about her personally, just the gang in general, and yet these were the words that would condemn her. This wasn't a 'trial,' it was cleaning up the trash. However, Ghost knew she was guilty. She was more guilty than the court would ever know. So Ghost did not feel too injusticed. The crimes might not have all belonged to her but she had committed her fair share. She was a criminal and very fortunate the court didn't know what she had done. She wouldn't hang as a murderer.

When the testimony was done, the judge started going through the gang with a practiced efficiency. She would call a name, check their hands for tattoos and send them off to their punishment. When she finally got to Ghost the judge meant to only look at her hands but was caught in her ice cold stare. The previously bored looking judge shivered before consigning her to the docks.

Ghost took a deep breath and tried not to panic. It would be the most enjoyable. She loved the sea.

But it was tempting fate. What if her spirit killed someone again?

Ghost really didn't want to hurt anyone. A protesting yelp even left her throat as she was pulled to a separate pen from the one that held Weevil and Viper.

"A moment." A light male voice said. It wasn't a request but a command. The room seemed to freeze and Ghost turned to see who held that much power in the courtroom.

Strangely, it was a civilian. A rich civilian, she could tell from deep blue over robe that her parents would have sold for a couple of silver astrels. He wasn't a lawyer or a soldier and she could tell he wasn't a merchant. However the way he wore power he was somebody important.

"May I see the girl again?" The man inquired. Ghost began to get worried.

"Bring her." The judge ordered the guards, not sounding happy to bring the creepy girl back.

Ghost was led to stand in front of the man. She studied him nervously but kept her cool demeanor. This would not end well for her. She could think of no possible situation where attention from a rich man was good news. Money-bags never were.

As much as she found slang distasteful, the label of 'Bag' did seem to fit. Street words had long ago invaded her mind and although she would rarely say them, they did exist just as much as any other word in her vocabulary.

The Bag leaned in close to the judge and whispered something she found distasteful. He held up a letter with a beribboned seal on it, showing it to her carefully. The judge took another nervous look at Ghost but nodded at the man. "Their Majesties are inclined to mercy, as you are but a youth," the judge rattled off quickly, eager to get the girl away from her, "You have a choice- the docks, or exile from Sotat and service at the-" she faltered as the Bag leaned into whisper at her.

Once the man pulled away, he looked straight at Ghost. Their eyes met but she never once blinked, never giving in to the powerful black gaze. She was surprised to find that he didn't look like the Thief Lord, or other degenerates with less than good intentions. He had a look about him that wasn't scheming or ugly. Ghost wasn't sure what to think of that. She had long since abandoned the belief that people could be good instead of monsters, but this man looked like he would be one to stop monsters. Who was this Bag? What was this offer of exile? Who did he want her in service too? How could he not have the calculating sinister look of every other man who had wanted to use her?

The man did not make proper sense.

"You have the choice of the docks, or an apprenticeship to the Winding Circle Temple in Emelan," the judge went on, "until you take formal vows at the temple, or it's governing council rules that you are fit to enter society. Temple or docks, girl. Choose."

A temple? The Bag was not a temple guy. No dedicate would wear that mans finery. None of this made sense!

"Why?" Ghost had to ask, but neither seemed to want to answer. She had to choose first. She felt like she was playing a game in which she didn't know the rules. It made her nervous. It made her almost pick the docks. At least she knew what to expect there...

But potentially killing people wasn't an option. She had enough nightmares as it was. She would play the man's game for now. Emelan was at least far enough to escape the Thief Lord's control.

"I choose to go to the temple." Ghost spoke clearly, her words holding little trace of her years on the street.

"Make out transfer papers," the judge told a clerk. "Master Niklaren-" Ghost immediately stored the Bag's name, "-will you take charge of her?"

"Of course."

Ghost almost changed her mind right then. She did not want to belong to this Niklaren bag. But she stubbornly kept her mouth firmly in a line.

"I can't make out papers for a 'Ghost,'" whined the clerk, "Not to a _temple_."

"This is a chance, lass." Niklaren's voice was light in tone for a man's. "You can pick a name, one that's yours alone. You can choose how you will be seen from now on."

Ghost glowered at them. She didn't want to pick a new name. She wanted her old one, and if this was an opportunity to take it back then she would. A shade of her old merchant self remained proud of her heritage even while the rest of her cursed her family with the foulest of fates. In addition, anything was better than 'Ghost'. The way she hated her spirit, she certainly didn't want to be called for it.

"I already have a name. My name is Trisana." The girl answered, using her birth-name for the first time in years.

"You need a last name." The clerk mentioned impatiently.

"Hurry up girl, I have oth-" the judge stopped in the chill of the girl's eyes.

The last name was more of a tricky subject. She remembered her family's name very clearly. It was important. However, her family had abandoned her. She wanted nothing more to do with them. She didn't even want to think of them. But what else could she use? She wasn't going to have anything referencing her spirit- not after being called Ghost for so long. She refused to use any of its powers either, so no Lightning, Wind, Rain or Storm. She may have liked the sea but it didn't feel right, and neither did Cloud. Briefly she even considered Moss after the plant in her cell but shook her head. That one was felt funny but decidedly not for her. Plus, who picks a name from a prison cell? She wanted respect in life.

With a cruel twist of her lips, the girl said, "Chandler." Maybe some would recognize the name and see how far they had let one of there own fall. Maybe she could disgrace her family the way they had disgraced her.

The clerk and a few people around the chamber looked at her strangely but wrote down the name anyways, "Trisana Chandler," he said aloud as he his quill transcribed the name, "Master Niko, I'll need your signature."

The girl who formerly been known as Ghost tried to figure 'Master Niko' out as he signed with an educated flourish. Was he some teacher or scholar? No. She glanced at him again- Mage. That would explain everything.

"Cut her loose." Master Niklaren ordered the guards,

"Are you sure that's wise?" One of them spoke, really not wanting to get that close to her, "Your pardon sir, but you don't know what she's like!"

_Neither do you!_ The girl wanted to retort. She hadn't done anything to the man, she wasn't one of the kids that fought tooth and nail out of spite. In her opinion, she had been rather polite actually. But she was used to people turning against her without a logical explanation. That's why she was so surprised at Master Niklaren's next words.

The guard had kept spewing muck about her until Master Niklaren interupted him mid sentence,

"Are those remarks addressed to me?"

The room seemed to grow colder, but not literally for which the girl was grateful for. She didn't want her spirit getting loose here. Master Niklaren's tone was enough punishment for the guard.

"Trisana won't run, will you girl?" Master Niklaren asked her. The girl shivered from being addressed as such for the first time in such a long time. Memories haunted that name, none of them good.

"Tris." She responded,

"I'm sorry, what?" Master Niklaren looked perplexed,

"I would appreciate if you would call me Tris." She explained, feeling her face turning red from embarrassment,

"Of course." The man replied smoothly, "And you will stay? Won't you?"

She had no where else to run to, and no other options. Logic promised she wouldn't run. As wary as she was about Master Niko and the temple, she was almost interested. A temple had books and she hadn't read a good one in too long. A temple was better than being a street thief- it had to be. She'd already made the decision.

"Yes." Tris told him, "I will not run."

At least, she amended in her mind, not unless she needed to. She still didn't trust the man. But as long as he remained civil, so would she. She just hoped she could keep control of her temper, she really didn't need the spirit doing anything.

* * *

**A\N**: Wow! This got long! Ok, it's not that long but I meant for each chapter to have all four of them. However, due to the sheer bulk of this (and time it took!) I decided to break it up. I suppose this means I am continuing this. So yay I suppose. I will say right here that I make no promises on the speed of my updates. I have too much other things on my plate at this time to even attempt some kind of regular updating schedule.

Also, thanks for the reviews and reading this everyone!

ultima-owner- Glad you find it so! I know the reason I even decided to write this is because I found it so intriguing- a massive what if. Anyways, thank you so much for reviewing!

Infinitechange- Yep. There are a lot of possibilities to consider. Everyone meeting is already going to be way different and everything else will just kind of explode from there. I know at the moment I'm sticking close to what happened in the books because I know that as soon as I get away from that then everything is going to change so dramatically. Soon though, I'm just going to let it explode and deal with all the consequences. I just want to get them together before I change to much. I know I'm really looking forward to Briar and Sandry meeting, as well as Tris and Briar. Niko is going to think the Chandlers are worst people ever since they've dumped two young girls- in fact I might have to write a chapter about him confronting them with that when I get there... And yeah, there is so much to consider! That's what makes this fic fun! Also, thanks so much for your review- it made me think at the same time as being happy for getting a review. Seriously, it deserves a virtual cookie :)

Diaboli Advotacus- Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. I hope this chapter is up to scratch. Thanks again for your wonderful, complimenting review!

mistrali- Well I'm glad you like the idea. It just kind of came randomly to me, so I'm happy it actually works in a way. I do agree with you that I did much better with Tris and Briar than Sandry and Daja. Briar and Tris kind of share the spot for favorite character so their sections were easier for me to come up with for some reason. Sandry and Daja's stuff should get better though, I have some ideas that will spruce their parts up. Thanks for reviewing, especially with the criticism!

W8ing4UniBook - Yeah... I really don't mean to be that person. I know exactly what your talking about and I hate when that happens to me. So, here's another chapter! Read and enjoy! More will be coming. It may take a while but this won't be just a taunting taste of something. Thanks for reviewing and well, um, encouraging me to write this chapter. I hope you like it!

Fiery angel- I have! I have! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks so much for your review!

Also, I will give an open invitation for anyone who wants to write in this 'verse right here and now. I doubt anyone will want to take me up on it but I know sometimes you do see an idea and want to use it. I mean, we're fanfic writers, that's kinda what we do. So, just saying that I do share :)

Although does anyone have a cool name for this 'verse? Since I'm writing more, that will probably turn to related oneshots and the like for this AU and "Turns-verse" just doesn't sound right. I don't know. I'll think about it. I'll find something.

And now I will actually post this and let you read it instead of typing more on this already long authors note. Again, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I thank you for reading it!


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